


Twin Moons

by elusivelover_archivist



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elusivelover_archivist/pseuds/elusivelover_archivist
Summary: By Z.P. FlorianHan takes his newborn son to an exiled Luke, and they’re both in for some major surprises.





	Twin Moons

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Cara Loup, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Elusive Lover](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Elusive_Lover_\(Star_Wars_archive\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Elusive Lover’s collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ElusiveLover).

"Don’t give me this crap again about Alderaani royalty! You’re pregnant, and pregnant women are the same on any damn planet. Admit that you’re jumpy, and this nonsense about working way into the ninth month is just that, nonsense."

"I wish you’d hear yourself."

"I hear myself just fine. I hear you, too. I’ve been hearing you all the time."

"And what do you think you’ve heard?"

"That you’re sick of me."

"Of course I’m sick of you. I’m sick of your drinking and your sour attitude."

"If I drink, it’s because I need something to fill my time. You’re never home, and I have nothing to do for months. I don’t have a place here, I don’t do politics and I don’t do diplomacy. You knew that from day one."

Leia sighed. "And you knew I’d not provide entertainment for bored smugglers for whom peacetime is unbearable."

"Gods know I tried, Leiasha, I did try, I don’t mind saying it’s my damn fault I don’t fit in. I’m sure you’ve tried too, and hell, it doesn’t work."

"Perhaps it would if you’d try sober."

"Screw sober."

"Han, what you need is a proper Corellian wife who’d follow you wherever you want to go, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen."

"Too late, sweetheart, Corellians don’t bond twice."

"I want a divorce."

Han froze. "You’re having my baby. How could we divorce now?"

"I want a divorce precisely because I don’t want you to be the father of the child."

"The blue hells you say! I am the father of the child, that’s not a question of wanting."

"My child needs a father who’ll raise him the way he has to be raised."

"Leiasha, I’m not gonna get into this. I’m not going to take you seriously, not when you’re eight-and-a-half months pregnant. If you want me to leave, I’ll go, I don’t want to annoy you any more, but let’s talk about this when the baby’s born and you’re back to normal."

"Normal?" She studied his face and shook her head. "All right. It won’t make a difference, but I’m not going to argue with you a second longer. We’ll talk about it whenever you wish."

"I’ll see you when the baby comes."

 

 _Doesn’t want me to be the father of the child_ , he thought, _what crap_. As if she could change the facts now.

It was good to be back on the Falcon. Han hadn’t used the ship for months. Everything needed maintenance. The familiar routine of tinkering calmed him. Leia was totally unreasonable, he argued with himself, better not take her too seriously. True, the marriage wasn’t all peachy; true, he was bored sick with her dedication to her work, her devoted interest in galactic politics; true, he was grumbling about it on and off; true, he’d been drinking quite a lot lately, but up to the last month, sex had been wonderful, and she always mellowed in bed. Whatever opinion she had about him, she never had any complaints about his lovemaking. No one ever did; hell, if there was something beside piloting he’d ever been really good at, it was sex. Once the baby was born, they’d go back to having a great time every night, and Leia would stop carping about being incompatible.

 _Divorce, my ass_ , Han growled, _Corellians never divorce. How the fuck can I divorce my kid and his mother? Luke would understand, he was raised the same. Damn him that he isn’t here when I’d need him to talk to Leia. This whole crap turned out very different from the way I imagined. Too bad for me, I was really naive_.

It angered him no end that Luke had had to leave as soon as his relationship to Vader came to light. If there was a kid who should have been accepted and celebrated by all, it was Luke. If there was a single being in the entire galaxy who could inherit Vader’s wealth without getting dizzy, that was Luke. _I bet he’s spending the whole lot on charity or something equally noble_ , Han said to himself. _I should go visit him_.

He fixed and polished everything on the Falcon, keeping an eye on the calendar. Baby should come next week. He intended to be sober for that: three days ahead of the date, he locked up his supply of Kessel brandy in the cargo hold.

When he came up to the cockpit, the comm blinked a message. He punched in his code and read the screen.

YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY IN THE HOSPITAL OF OUR GREATER GLORY. CITIZEN ORGANA HAS BEEN ASSASSINATED.

"What?" He stared at the screen without understanding. Absurd. Impossible.

* * *

"Undoubtedly the work of Imperial sympathizers. A time bomb, placed near her seat in the New Senate. Four people died with her. There was nothing we could do. It is a miracle that the child was saved. You have a healthy son, Citizen Solo."

A wave of guilt assaulted Han, because all he could think of was that, after all, he would raise his son any which way he wanted to.

 _What a shit I am, I don’t even grieve for her. Damn the woman, I told her and told her to stay at home. No, she had to do her diplomatic best to the last minute. If she’d listened to me, she’d still be alive. Now I’ll never get a chance to make things better between us_.

"Are you prepared to take your child home?" The medical droid sounded compassionate in a neatly pre-programmed way. "If you need a few more days, we can keep the child here."

"The hell you’ll keep him in a box. I take him now."

He didn’t have to wait long. A squat droid brought in the baby; even in the wrap he looked a lot like Leia, the small head crowned with remarkably long dark hair.

"He’s very quiet," Han said. It worried him. Babies were supposed to cry.

"True," the squat droid answered. "He is a very quiet baby, but he checked out healthy in every way."

Han reached out for the child and held him close to his body. He was immediately reassured when the little bundle relaxed in his arms with a tired sigh. "Better than a droid, huh, to have a daddy to hold you, even if I don’t have.... What am I going to feed him with?"

"Do you have a food synth?"

"Of course, who doesn’t?"

"You will receive a feeding kit, and on your synth code 579 should list the options for human infants."

"It had better."

 

He should have been going to their home, but he took the baby back to the Falcon. First he tried the food synth, which really gave a long list of options for humanoid babies, although Corell-Alderaani wasn’t among them, so he chose Corellian.

"It’s not going to be as good as mom’s milk, but better than nothing, kid," he said. "Now, are you ready to eat?"

It took a bit of persuasion to have the baby accept the bottle.

"Good." Han smiled. "We’ll be all right. Had enough already?" He put the bottle on the floor and leaned back in the captain’s seat. He was strangely sleepy and very content. The last thing he saw was the baby’s eyes closing; his own eyelids felt like lead. In seconds, he was asleep with the child in his arms.

He woke in two hours, ravenously hungry. The baby had his eyes open, but made no sound. Han got himself a bowl of stew and wolfed it down. When he was full, the baby fell asleep again. Han felt tired. He went to his cabin, stretched out on his bunk, carefully placing the baby on his chest, pulled the blanket over both of them and slept without dreams.

He woke up soon enough, hungrier than before. Dazed, he carried the baby to the synth and got himself another bowl of stew. The clock glared at him. He’d slept no more than two hours. "What’s the matter with me?" he muttered. "I should’ve fed you, son, not myself. You should be crying your little head off by now."

But the baby seemed content. Way too content. Han unwrapped the blankets. _Wet all right, son. You should scream bloody murder when you’re this wet!_

The cleaner gave back the diaper in seconds, and Han managed the wrapping as best he could. There was an odd pressure in his stomach and around his bladder, as if he’d eaten too much and had forgotten to use the sani.

 _Something’s not right_ , he thought. _Leia’s dead and all I can think of is food_.

Two bowls of stew, his stomach full to bursting, and yet he was hungry like hell. The baby blinked and yawned. Han stroked the small face. The skin was incredibly soft, but as his fingertips touched the little mouth, he stopped. The pink lips were very dry.

He got a bottle and tried to get the baby to drink. He got no response.

"Son? What the hell’s wrong with you? And what the hell’s wrong with me?" he asked the thin air when, two minutes later, he could barely manage to reach the sani in time.

 _The baby won’t eat and I forget to piss_. He cursed softly, puzzled and worried by his own dazed reactions. The baby began to squirm in his arms. _You don’t like cursing, huh, just like your mama_.

That finally got his brains working. _This is it_ , he thought. _I’ve got a little Jedi here, I’d be willing to bet my life on it. When he’s hungry, I eat and he gets content, and as he’s not bothered by other needs, I don’t even feel when I have to go. When he sleeps, I sleep; when I sleep, he sleeps. Damn it, he won’t feed ‘til I get hungry!_

 _Leia knew_ , he realized suddenly, _that’s why she wanted another man beside her, didn’t think I’d be the proper influence for a child who’d read my mind. Well, son, you’re stuck with me now_.

_And wasn’t Leia right – I didn’t even bother to give the kid a name. Or did Leia register a name at the hospital?_

_Never mind, this can wait_ , he decided, _first I have to get you to eat_.

He put the baby down on the bunk and retrieved his medkit. In the poison control compartment, he found what he needed.

He was retching in the sani for a good ten minutes and took another half hour for his stomach to settle down enough to signal empty. By then, the baby was wailing loudly, and when Han offered a bottle, it was accepted and drained in minutes.

"One down." Han grinned. "Papa will have to be careful with his diet from now on." The baby was ready to sleep, and so was Han. "Ye gods, son, I can’t spend twenty hours sleeping..."

There was no resisting the lassitude. Han’s last coherent thought was that he’d probably be awake for ten minutes every two hours.

* * *

In a couple of days, he had the routine down to the last detail. They slept most of the time, Han set his alarm to remind himself to use the sani, posted hand-written notes all over the Falcon to order himself to wash and shave and change the baby even if his mind was too fuzzy to think of it. He ate just enough to keep himself slightly hungry, so the baby would sense his hunger and feed instead of trying to live on Han’s full stomach. Eventually he found time to check the hospital records. His son had a name.

Bail. Han couldn’t live with that. No self-respecting Corellian could live with a name like that. Bail. He could already hear the jokes.

"Hey, Han, can you raise bail? How much is the bail this time, you old pirate? He has it made, he always has bail... Bail Solo..."

Damn. He had to sit down and doctor the records. Why Bail? Ah, Bail Organa, Leia’s stepfather. Such requests should be honored, but the hell with it. It took him almost a whole day to manipulate the sealed data, but in the end, he managed a nearly undetectable change. All he did was eliminate the ‘i’ – worthless if compared with the main databank, but good enough for the average Port Authority. Han had no intention of staying around the Core Worlds anyhow.

 

He was alternately cursing and praying all the way to Gavlion.

He had to find Luke and talk to him about the baby, but navigating was nearly impossible with the constant need to sleep. The baby’s needs overwhelmed him, but if Han forced himself to stay awake, he ended up with a desperately whimpering infant unable to sleep. The trip to Vader’s estate should have taken less than four days; he made it in seven.

Gavlion was wild and beautiful, most of it covered in a dense jungle, with large saltwater lakes. Vader’s palace had been built on an island. A pharmaceutical company owned the entire planet, except for the part Vader had bought. Small groups of workers collected medicinal herbs here and there, but the planet was practically uninhabited.

The Vader estate surprised Han: it was a fort all right, yet the island around it was covered with exotic plants, flowering vines and stunningly colored spiny cacti. Either Vader had had imagination or his gardener did. On one side of the island was a small but well-equipped port. Only droids scanned Han’s permits.

Slow, comfortable landcruisers were available. The air was hot and humid, filled with the scents of the savagely gorgeous flowers. Han smiled, knowing how Luke enjoyed anything colorful and lively after Tatooine. And all this free water. The kid was probably happy here, he thought.

The fort-cum-palace was white, built of native stone. Nothing broke the smooth surfaces: windows were visible only on the upper levels.

Han didn’t see a living soul anywhere. Yet when he climbed out of the landcruiser, the unmarked walls parted to reveal a passage leading inside. Han unwrapped the baby – it was too warm for all the blankets – and walked in. The passage led to an inner yard overgrown with yellow, black and purple flowering plants clustered around small ponds.

Han barely recognized the man striding toward him.

It was Luke, but a very different Luke. Wearing a long, black truesilk robe, sun-bleached hair falling past his shoulders, he looked agile and unearthy at the same time against the wildly colored background of those untamed flowers. He was barefoot, and, Han thought, most certainly naked under the whisper-thin layer of silk.

Luke was not at all surprised to see them. An odd little smile played in the corner of his mouth as he said, mocking past and present at once, "I have been expecting you."

Han thought it was the proper time to crack some joke about the Force, but he couldn’t say anything for seconds. His voice sounded hoarse when he finally spoke. "You’ve changed."

"Not a bit," Luke smiled openly now, his blue eyes sparkling. "I only look different. Comfort and luxury, I guess, good soaps and perfect food, a lot of rest, fine hot weather. Glad to see you. I was hoping you’d come. I felt her death and the birth of the child, but the details were rather sketchy on the networks." He reached out for the child. "May I hold him?"

Han placed the infant in Luke’s arms. "I call him Bal."

"Why?"

"Leia wanted to call him Bail. I don’t think Bail Solo would go over real well."

"Perhaps not." Luke smiled again, cradling the baby. "He’s very strong in the Force. I hope you’re planning to stay for, let’s say, fifteen years or so."

"Stay here?"

"Well, I don’t see where else you’d want to raise a Force-sensitive kid. You’re the one always warning people against delusions of grandeur. You can’t possibly cope with him."

"I’m coping with him just fine. I’ve got it all worked out. Besides, your Uncle Owen and Aunt Bora... Beru, whatever, did a good job with you, and as far as I know, the Organas had no trouble with Leia."

 _Stay here_ , Han thought, _yeah, stay. Not enough that half of the people I know accused me of marrying Leia for her money, all I need is them accusing me of living off her brother_.

"My foster parents had some training from Kenobi," Luke said, "and Kenobi himself was there to guard against any unexpected tricks I was prone to do. The Organas had been used to Jedi company for quite a few centuries. This kid would wrap you around his little finger, and before you know it, you’d be stocking the Falcon with sweets and ice and all the toys you can carry. You’d live his life, or he’d be living yours – neither is an option." Luke stroked the child’s hair. "Black like Anakin’s, the eyes are blue. So perfect, so promising."

"Listen, you can give me all the advice and training the Larses got from Kenobi, but I’m not going to stay here and meditate for the rest of my life. This stint with the Alliance is over, the other one as husband of an Organa princess never really worked all that well anyway, so I guess Han Solo’s back in business. Freight transport at your service, no questions asked." Han was grinning. He felt good, better than he had in months. Free and energetic.

Luke sat down on a marble bench, the thin robe molded to his body like a caress. He was rocking the baby. "You’re planning to raise him in Mos Eisley?"

"Or Corell."

"Han, why do you think I was raised on Tatooine, in the middle of nothing?"

"To hide you?"

"Leia was on Alderaan, in the Royal Palace. Hiding was not a question. For both of us, Kenobi chose a proper environment. I grew up with practically nobody but two kind people around me, and Leia got all the peace and loving of the Organa family. You can’t let a sensitive grow up among the slime of the Galaxy; he’ll be influenced by it in the worst way."

Han tensed. "Leia said she wanted someone else to be his father. ‘Cause I was no good."

"Gods, not that. You are..."

"I’m?"

"You’re good enough for anybody."

"But not if I live my own life, huh?"

Luke studied him intently. "Come on, you weren’t exactly enamored with the Mos Eisley crowd yourself."

"I was doing all right."

"You were narrowly managing to stay alive. You were living on courage, improvisation and arrogance. There were ports in the Galaxy where they’d have shot you on sight, ports where you’d have been arrested, you had more warrants against you than you cared to count, and you owed a fortune in fees, fines and port taxes. And let’s not count the number of really rotten people who had personal reasons to cut your throat." Luke was talking softly, his words harsher than his attitude. Han thought he was trying to keep his emotions in check for the sake of the baby. "And at that time, you had a large Wookiee backing you up. Now you’re going to have a small child making you vulnerable to threats of all kinds."

"I’d die before I let anyone harm him," Han said through gritted teeth.

"I know that." Luke smiled. "That’s what worries me. What possible benefit could come from you dying for him? You have to live for him."

"I could find a regular job, if that’s what’s eating you. You think I can’t work like anyone else, to raise a child? I can go to Corell and live like the next guy, work regular hours, play house," Han insisted.

Luke shifted on the bench. The baby was now sleeping in his arms. "What is it, really? Why are you so set against staying here? Is it because I’m Vader’s son? After what he did to you on Bespin, shouldn’t you follow Corelli tradition and cut me open from crotch to breastbone with some kind of vendetta knife?"

"Sure." Han grinned. "As Vader’s dead now, you’re the next of kin to take revenge on. But – hey, do you know how messy it is? You get the guts all over your hand, it’s really a very short knife. Besides, the ritual involves fasting, and I hate that." The hazel eyes became serious. "You know, I was really pissed off when they made you leave. How they can even think of you as anything less than a bloody hero, I’ll never understand."

"Han, I deserted on Endor and gave myself up to the Imperials. They had every right to court-martial and execute me. They let me leave because most of them did think of me as a bloody hero." Luke laid the baby down on the grass, in the shade. "He’ll sleep for awhile."

"I was still pissed. I had a fight with Leia over this. She said it was better for you to disappear for a while, and I said she was a hypocrite, like the whole New Government. They’d all be floating bits in space if you hadn’t blown up the Death Star over Yavin."

"I’d be a flat stain on the side of the Death Star, if you hadn’t come back to save my hide." Luke smiled.

"Okay, quit the mutual admiration. No, I don’t care whether your father was Vader or a crimson whale. I haven’t the faintest idea who _my_ father was, so what?"

"Well, quite a few people think I’m not fit company for man nor beast," Luke said, almost cheerfully.

Han began to suspect that Luke wasn’t bitter about being alone. "You’re kinda comfortable with your life here," he suggested.

"More than a bit. I have a lot to study. My education wasn’t exactly up to galactic standards. We only had six years of schooling on Tatooine. Very basic galactic history, a fair amount of math, a bit of physics, enough biology to know where babies come from. No art at all. This is the first time in my life that I can listen to music and read poetry." Luke smiled again in obvious pleasure. "I don’t know what you think of Alderaani opera, but I’ve gone crazy over it, and I can listen to Corelli clansongs all day."

"I wouldn’t know enough about Alderaani opera to tell head from tail." Han shrugged.

"Leia didn’t beat you to see one?"

"It wasn’t like that between us. I wouldn’t let her drag me to any art thing and she didn’t really have the time to try. We had a few good days. At other times, it was arguments and mutual sulking. You have anything to drink? I could use a stiff one."

"I bet you didn’t have a drop in the past week or so." Luke chuckled softly. "Your son didn’t need it, huh?"

"So how come I need it now?"

"I’m here, you Force-blind fool. I can free you from that clumsy mindlink you’ve developed with him. Wean him gently, so you can think with your own head, and he with his, before you become a very large baby and he a very small pirate, or both of you end up being something in between. What would you like to drink?"

"Kessel brandy, and a lot of it."

"Let’s go inside."

 

 _Ye gods_ , Han thought, _how strange this is_.

Luke, sunk into a large, soft chair the color of pale moonlight, in that whisper of a robe, barefoot, eerily beautiful. The baby, sleeping peacefully on a huge pillow. The room, light and airy, pearly curtains fluttering in open arches, flowering vines, living plants everywhere. Barely audible, gentle music coming from unseen speakers. Tall etched crystal goblets to hold their drinks. Han felt unkempt and out of place, craving the brandy with a fierce need that forced him to admit how much he’d gotten used to it lately.

"Now," Luke said.

"Now what?"

"Now out with it, why can’t you stay?"

"For one thing, you were almost right about that vendetta. Not for what Vader did to me – that I can forget ‘cause he’s dead. But for Leia. I should hunt down and kill those who planted that bomb, those who ordered it, preferably their entire families, women and children, to erase their bloodline."

"Quite a tall order for a single man. And all this with one of those small blades?"

"As my cause is just, the Goddess will guide my blade." Han smiled a little. "Hokey religions, huh? Fortunately, I’m not exactly your fanatic Corelli clansman, and I don’t have a reputation to lose if I let the death of my wife go unavenged. I’m not a complete idiot, you know. Perhaps if I didn’t have a son, I’d... try to kill as many as I can, and if I got killed in the process, you know, I’d die with honor. Would give me something to do for a couple of years, hunting down those people, cornering them, killing them. Don’t look at me like that, it’s good Corelli sport, vendetta. National pastime."

Luke rose and filled up Han’s goblet with more brandy. "Drink. It’s all right. Have you ever done it?"

"What? Vendetta? Yes. Once." Han drained the goblet and held it out for more. "Funny, it was the week before I met you. I did it for a friend of mine."

Silence settled between them for awhile. Han finished the second drink before he spoke again. "He wasn’t just a friend, he was my lover."

Luke was about to fill the goblet again but he stopped. "You had a..."

"A what?"

"You said... he."

"Well, hell, he was a he – why, don’t you understand Standard all of a sudden?"

"It’s just that I..."

Han sighed. "Fill the goddamn cup, willya? And get over it. Corellians don’t make a whole big thing of who they screw, as long as it feels good, you know. I thought you’d be a little less uptight, you’re not the kind to spout all this Imperial crap about sexual purity and all that."

"It’s not that."

"Then what is it?"

"Forget it. I’m still asking the same question: why is it so impossible to stay here?"

Han would’ve given his right arm to avoid the answer. "Damn, I just can’t."

"Not enough people? No one to play cards with?" Luke kept filling the goblet as soon as it was empty. "I will get an honest answer even if I have to get you drunk."

"All right, I’ll tell you. It’s like this. When I married Leia, everybody started to give me those looks..." Han drank, allowing the haze of the brandy to relax him. "Luke," he said very softly, "I think I’ll get drunk on you. I feel so goddamn sorry that she died. I shoulda been tougher with her, force her to stay home. She’d still be alive if I hadn’t played the insulted lover and walked out on her."

"Get drunk and keep talking." Luke pulled his chair closer and settled down, his bare feet up on the seat.

Luke had had his own problems with Leia’s death as soon as he’d sensed it and knew the power of self-accusations, of guilt, the endless questions about whether there was anything he could have done to prevent it. Watching Han go through the same agony, he could see more clearly how pointless it had been to blame himself, just as Han had no reason to think that what had happened depended on his behavior in any way.

Luke had found out a good while ago that drinking did nothing for him, but if it helped Han right now, he’d drain Vader’s cellar. "Take the whole bottle."

Han did. "I was saying..."

"That everybody started to give you those looks."

"You know."

"No, I don’t."

"Like I was some space gigolo marrying her for all the money. They remembered how I used to be, making the Alliance pay for what I did, the reward and whatever they paid me for the blockade running. So they thought I had it made, enjoying her riches." He tilted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. "Stars, this is good. Thanks. I need it."

Luke sat up straighter, hugging his knees. "And now you think they’ll say you came here to sponge off me."

"Yeah, that’s about it."

"You know, you’re nuts. With her death, you’ve inherited all of Leia’s wealth. You _are_ a very rich man, Han. Nobody would think you need more."

"I don’t want her goddamn wealth."

"I know. But I’m sure he—" Luke nodded at the baby, "—won’t mind having it."

"How about you? What are you doing with Vader’s fortune?"

"I’m mostly using it to set up a search for potential Force-users and any Jedi who might be in hiding. Then I’ll start a new Jedi Order. And I am financing a couple of interplanetary organizations."

Han gasped. "You what—?"

"I’ve been reading my father’s notes. It’s very useful to have this kind of setup if you can’t be in politics openly. To ensure that certain issues won’t be forgotten. To have a say in the future of the Galaxy."

"So you’re not sitting here meditating."

"No." Luke smiled, stretching like a satisfied feline. "I’m up to my neck in galactic politics, perhaps more than I’d be if I were right there among the leaders. Did you think I’d bury myself in a solitary existence and contemplate the effects of the Force on the flow of time? Not that it’s a boring subject... but I’ve discovered I’m quite good at prodding things in the right direction from here. Vader had a lot of plans, a lot of influence... some of it good. I can use it. I never had a chance to get to know him, or Kenobi, never had a chance to get to know Leia well either... to be honest, if I ever grieve for them, what I regret is the lost opportunity to find out whether I could’ve had a friend in them."

"In a way, you seem to do well on your own."

"The house is full of droids and entertainment."

Han was close to finishing the bottle. "What are you doing for sex?"

"Nothing."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I’m not... very sensual."

Han stared at Luke as if he’d never seen him before. The way he sat on that white chair, his tanned hands resting on his knees, the black silk stretching on his shoulders, gold strands of hair like liquid sunlight. The soft, full mouth, the bare feet. "Yeah, I can see that."

"You should eat something."

"Not now. I’ll finish this bottle and then I’ll quietly pass out here, thanks."

"Go ahead. We can talk more tomorrow."

"I’m not staying," Han said. "Check the synth... for baby food. Please."

Luke just sat there, quietly, watching him. Watching Han close his eyes and sleep, exhausted and drunk.

 

Later he rose and fed the baby, washed him, changed him. Holding the small life in his hands, he gently probed the newborn soul, searching for the trauma of his mother’s death, soothing it, blurring it with immense tenderness.

 _Child of my sister_ , he whispered wordlessly, praying that he’d be allowed to keep him. Oh, he was fine alone, but now... with Han here sleeping and the baby sucking on his finger, Luke knew that it wouldn’t ever be the same. From now on, alone would spell lonely.

Straightening his back, he swore not to take it to heart if Han decided to leave. It’d be hell to have him here, so close, every day, waiting for something, waiting for a word, a touch. Perhaps even getting it, when the lack of better company would drive Han to...

Hoping for more would be insane. And what if it happened, what if Han found him convenient?

 _Is my pride so all-important that I wouldn’t take a casual coupling gladly? I don’t think I’d have any pride at all_.

Just imagining a time when Han would reach out for him... Gods, he wanted it so badly, he was hurting. How he hated that wanting, the constant, unceasing heat, the shameful misery of his need, the longing. Damn that he couldn’t control it, couldn’t deny it. He could hide it, yes, he was the master of that, had perfected it for years.

Luke went back into the room to look at Han again as he slept, his hair tousled, the incredible line of his neck taut, a palm-sized part of his chest bare in the open shirt. How warm his skin must be.

Luke shook his head. Wanting was one thing, but did he really want all the touching and... whatever came with sex, the messy, greedy part of it, the nakedness of body and soul, his hungry need exposed to Han’s eyes–? His body, for Han to play with. Wanting was bad enough... getting it would be terrifying. He’d be like a little virgin, asking for it, only to run away screaming when he was about to get it. No. Not that.

Night had fallen. Luke stood on the balcony, rocking the baby in a makeshift swing made of a soft blanket. The sky was cloudless, blinding dark blue against the twin circles of two moons.

 _Beautiful_. Luke sighed. _No need to worry and whimper. Enjoy. Enjoy the moment. He’s here, and for all I know, he might stay_.

He kept replaying their conversation. Han had had a lover. A man. Corellians, apparently, didn’t think of love in terms of gender. How grotesque it was that Han had thought he was shocked. Gods, if he knew.

The twin moons rose higher, one passing just below the other, a beautiful illusion of two brilliant orbs almost touching. _Can’t think of anything else but touches_ , Luke mocked himself.

He dimmed the lights, Han’s sleeping form in the room no more than a blurred shadow.

 _How would it be, his touch? Gentle? Agressive? Would it annoy him to find out how inexperienced I am? Would he think it’s a gift? What am I that he can reduce me to a whimpering idiot? He must never guess. I must let him know. I can’t let him know_.

 _He will find out_.

 _He won’t care_.

 _He’d never look at me that way_.

 _Never will_.

 _Maybe_.

 _Never_.

 _Perhaps_.

He cursed himself and his desires. Cursed his wanting and his hesitation. His stubborn hope and his insistent terror. Dying for a touch, poised to run. Chaotic words swimming in his head, disgusting words to describe what he wanted. Whispers of kids, crude jokes of soldiers. He prayed fervently to be rid of it all, to be forever clean and chaste. To be a friend and kin to Han, not a bawling spring nerf pretending to be all calm and composed when fire was eating his entire body. Wanting so much that no amount of Jedi discipline could rule his flesh.

He looked into the room, at the pale whiteness that was Han’s shirt, ‘til the pink and orange glow of morning painted the waters, sunlight seeping beyond the arches, touching Han’s face.

It was time to feed the baby.

Han stirred, rubbing his face, obviously pained by a very nasty hangover. When he looked up all he could see was the slim, dark shadow of Luke passing through the room with the baby in his arms.

"Sorry," Han managed to say. "Didn’t mean to get drunk on you."

"You needed it," Luke said. "Come, we’re all due for a good breakfast."

 

"So, what have you decided?"

"I think I’m going to stay for a while." Han was toying with his food. His stomach took its time to settle down. "You’re doing something right with the kid, I can actually think with my own head."

"In time, it’ll be easier, whether I’m there or not."

"I can wait for that." He was studying Luke’s face. "You’ve been up with him all night."

"Not because of him. The night was so gorgeous, I was outside..."

"I’ll stay, but I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with my time." Han finally managed to eat a piece of kippa. "What d’you think I can do, watch holos all day?"

"You could learn a new skill."

"Kraat, you sound like a psych-droid in some of the better jails I’ve been in. Use your time to learn a skill. You know I can knit? Learned it in the slammer. It was knitting or watercolors." Han grinned. "You think I can try Alderaani opera?"

"It’s not what you imagine, you know. You’ll like it. It’s all fire and passion and temper."

"I should’ve let Leia show me. I was such a rotten pig with her. I never let her change me – she wanted to, wanted to make me into someone she could live with. All I did was argue and drink. Shit, I took all the brightness she was and couldn’t keep it. Couldn’t keep her safe."

Luke had to ask. "Would it make you feel better to go and hunt down her assassins?"

Han was silent for a long time. "I don’t think so. Must’ve lost my taste for fighting somewhere. Maybe I’m just tired."

"You miss her more than you think."

"That, too. Not what we had, but what we could’ve had. If I hadn’t been so stupid, if she hadn’t been so... stiff. We had good times." He rose. "I need a drink."

"Do you say that every time you think you’re about to tell something relevant?"

"Such as?"

Luke pierced him with a clear blue stare. "Something human, like: I am sad, I hurt, I am mad, I am confused, I am miserable."

"Luke." Han spread his arms and stared right back. "Watch me. I’m sad, I hurt like hell, I’m mad as hell, I am confused out of my mind and I’m miserable as shit, and I need a drink."

"You win. Do I preach too much?"

"No. Yes. No." Han started to laugh. "I don’t care. Listen, if a man can’t stay drunk for a couple of weeks when his wife dies... then when?"

"You said you’d been drinking when she was alive."

"Then I had no reason. Now I do. You preach too much."

"Before you get drunk, I’ve got to tell you something."

"Shoot."

"You said you’d stay. Maybe you could sort of shuttle between here and Corell, gradually establishing yourself a life there, so when the kid’s ready, the two of you can move."

"That’s an idea. Anything else?"

"No."

"All right then. You can show me an Alderaani opera while I get drunk."

"A perfect combination." Luke smiled.

 

And it had been, Luke reflected some seven hours later. Han made it through an entire holographic presentation of the original premiere of ‘The Rise and Fall of Second Assistant Secretary of state, Rial Organa,’ a three-hundred year old, five-hour long opera. He was drinking steadily, but at the end admitted to being better entertained than he’d expected.

"Damn inspiring music here," he said. "I feel like charging into a crowd and beating the hell out of something. Never thought I’d like it."

"Nor I," Luke told him. "I only watched it because it was Vader’s favorite."

"Oh, fuck." Han sighed. "The things we have in common."

 

Now it was night again. When Luke left them, Han slept peacefully and so did the baby.

Luke stood on the balcony in utter despair, his arousal so urgent that the accidental brush of his hand against his own skin sent waves of agony through his body. He didn’t dare to move. His breath caught with a strangled gasp; the thin fabric of his robe outlined an erection that he couldn’t will away. Unbidden images flooded his mind, images that still horrified him.

 _Is this what I want?_ he thought. _How can I pretend to be able to help him or the child, when this humiliating insanity rules me?_

A cold shower, Luke decided, but when he moved, the robe whispered against his arousal and he knew that if he took another step, he’d scream out loud.

"Where the hell are you?" Han’s voice. "What’re you doing out there?"

 _Gods, no. Don’t let him come closer_.

But Han did, Luke could hear the booted footsteps, quite uncertain. The Corellian was drunker than before.

"You know, that robe of yours is quite transparent in the moonlight." Han had a smile in his voice behind the slurred consonants. "Never had the honor of seeing this much of you. Actually, never credited you with such a... fine piece of equipment." He leaned against a marble pillar, almost too drunk to stand on his own. "Well, hell." Han ran his hand over his own body. "What a surprise. I thought you dead. Thanks for coming back now, that’s a good boy."

For a moment Luke believed Han was talking to him, then he realized that the Corellian was carrying on a conversation with his cock.

But the next sentence was definitely addressed to Luke. "Would you mind? Kraat, what the hell am I doing? You wouldn’t want this, huh? Uncle Owen would turn over in his grave." Han laughed softly. "Just knock me over with a feather if I do something you don’t want."

"I don’t mind," Luke said so softly he was sure Han couldn’t hear it, but Corellians never missed hearing a yes.

Han took a step toward him, crushing him against the wall. The heavy touch of the large body sent Luke over the edge. A single, violent shiver shook him.

"You didn’t need much." Han’s breath whispered against his hair. He felt Han’s hand travelling down his back, sliding between them. "I’m afraid you’ll have to take off this robe, ‘ts all wet."

Luke froze, suddenly ashamed.

"Relax, kid, I’m drunk enough not to know what I’m doing. Ther’se chance I won’t even remember... Hey, I was young once, wasn’t any more patient..."

Han gathered the thin silk in his palm, pulled the robe over Luke’s head and let it drop. "Very nice," he said, his gaze sweeping downward. "Helluva lot more rousing than Alderaani opera. Damn, but you have a beautiful body, kid, where’ve you been hiding it? I know... under your, whatya call it, demeanor... Just tell me to shut up. I was told I’m a little too vocal in bed... and how do you like it?" For a fleeting moment, Han looked sober. "You’ve been telling me you’re not very sensual... what the hell does that mean?"

"I don’t have the faintest idea."

"So then, how do you want it to be? I don’t care." His hand went between Luke’s legs. "It’s a cultural thing. If it makes you feel better about it, you can be on top."

"Han, I wouldn’t know what to – please just do what you want... stop interrogating me."

"Oh, I’m getting full artistic freedom here, am I? Well, thank you for the confidence. Me and my cock are ready to live up to it."

Luke thought the crudely playful words should hurt, but Han’s tone was almost reverent. "Han," he said. "I’ve never done this before. Don’t expect me to know what to do."

"‘S not that different from doing it with women."

"I’ve never done this with women either."

"Oh, shit."

"Does it matter a lot?"

"It matters ‘cause I’d rather be sober for it... Initiation’s quite a serious thing... I’ll be good, I promise, no matter which of my heads do the thinking." Han chuckled. "I think I do talk too much... put the mouth to better use." He went down on his knees.

"Gods, no!" Luke protested.

"Aw, shut up."

 

It was everything Luke had imagined and yet it was entirely different. What had seemed a dirty fantasy was now a primal, glorious union, a celebration of their living bodies, a reassuring ritual of life. Han did not turn into a lecherous beast as Luke had feared. Han was Han, kneeling in front of him on the balcony, his large hands on Luke’s hips, forcing him to stay still when Luke tried to pull away, the touch of the warm lips too much to bear.

 _Leave me_ , Luke begged, and Han said: "Too damn late" – punctuating every word with kisses on places Luke had never thought anyone would want to touch.

Gradually, he was manipulated closer and closer to the bed, ‘til he practically stumbled on it, lying on his back.

Han knelt there facing him. "Look at me," he said. "Look at me. I hate it that you’re so scared. Touch me. Like this." He took Luke’s hand and wrapped the fingers around his cock. "Say it, if it repulses you, even a little."

"No," Luke whispered. "It’s... so... alive."

"Well, I sure hope so," Han grinned, arching his body with pleasure.

Luke thought he’d lose his mind. _I’m doing this, I’m pleasing him_ , he thought, and then ... _anyone would please him, a ten-credit whore could make him purr like this... why do I care? And Leia – did she–? Of course she did. Gods, what a child I am! And jealous like a monster_...

"You’re thinking again," Han said. "It’s not permitted. Someone must’ve told you sex is dirty. Did Uncle Owen beat the hell out of you for touching yourself?"

"No," Luke said, because it was true.

Han didn’t believe him. "Now why do I think you’re lying?"

"He didn’t have to beat me. I could sense what he thought. What everybody thought."

"Good." Han smiled. "Perhaps you’d honor me with trying to sense what I think?"

"You think I’m a sorry bastard for being so confused and so damn provincial."

"That, too. And beautiful. Very beautiful. And how lucky I am to be allowed to play with your body." Han leaned down to brush the golden curls just under Luke’s navel with his lips. "Grow up, forgodssake, Skywalker. Hell, how I wish I were a little more sober. To use a bit more tact... more art... not get maudlin on you. You don’t know how sorry I feel for you, missing out on this for years... let me help you make up for it."

"Charity?"

"That’s how it feels? Maybe I’d better be less generous then, so you can feel _my_ pleasure."

Han moved, changing position, and thrust into Luke with a fluid expertise that was both aggressive and graceful. Luke cried out, protesting at first, but it was easier to accept what he needed when it was forced on him, when he couldn’t help but feel that there was nothing charitable in Han’s actions. There was a driving, overwhelming togetherness of a kind he’d never experienced, a need more compelling than his lone cravings had been. And Han was really very vocal, with words and noises, suggestive whispers, triumphant cries and satisfied purrs – Han, as he had always known Han, and as he’d never known Han before, Han naked, body and soul.

In the final glory of their climax, Luke could almost believe they were one.

"Never thought you’d be this wonderful," Han said, his head resting on Luke’s belly. "Imagine how it’d be if you were sensual." He paused. "You wanted this... I mean, before."

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Awhile... when you were on Bespin. When you were in danger. I thought you might die. I was so sure I’d fallen in love with Leia... but it was you I went to save. Then... with Vader being there, for awhile I didn’t even know who I was. Went to pieces over Vader being my father."

"You still owe me the details of that... like how you ended up on that weather vane."

"Wanted to kill myself. I think Vader interfered with it there, I should’ve died."

"You’re not even angry with him, are you?"

"No. He was just... lost. He thought he could bring peace and order to the Galaxy by shoving it down people’s throat. But you can’t. The end never justifies the means... the means soil the end, so you’ll never get what you originally aimed for. He saw that on the Death Star. On my face, in my soul. When I was ready to kill him... almost. I saw it, too. There, I was ready to die the second time. I knew it was better to die with my soul intact than live with a compromise. You can’t serve the Darkness and try to do good on the side. Han, you know, everything is either black or white. Really."

"You can’t ride two Banthas."

"Huh?"

Han grinned. "They say that on Corell, if a bit crudely. A man has only one ass..."

"Do you know that you’re the most honorable man I’ve ever met?"

"Sweet Mother of Corell, you musta kept really lousy company, kid." But Han was inordinately pleased inside. His eyelids felt heavy. "Damn, I really am drunk. I’d like to... return the compliment... you... are... could fall into a latrine and come up clean as sunlight."

"Thanks." Luke rolled out from under him. "The baby must be starving. Sleep now, I’ll come back after I’ve fed him."

 

Han woke with a hangover that would’ve killed a lesser man, but he banished it with a shotglass of Corell’s best and a sweetbread. He smiled. The Gods were kind, because he remembered everything.

He showered, shoving his clothes into the cleaner, dressed in minutes and went to find Luke.

In the room drenched with sunlight, Luke slept on the bed, the baby cradled in his arms. Han sat down beside them.

Luke stirred, looking at him. "Do you remember?" he asked.

"All of it. Any regrets?"

"No."

"I’m going to stay. Now sleep. You look exhausted."

"Haven’t slept... much... lately."

"Sleep all you want."

"Han... I don’t want you to think you have to stay... after what – out of some sense of duty."

"Oh, shut up already. I’m supposed to be the most honorable man you’ve ever seen. I’ll stay for a month or two, just to make sure I didn’t knock you up, ‘cause if I did, I’d do the right thing and marry you."

"I don’t think that Alderaani opera rubbed off on you. You were supposed to pick up a little culture, but you’re as crude as before."

"All right, I’ll try it your way, straight and from deep down, real opera-like. You love me."

"Yes."

"And you think I’d stay with you out of what? Pity?"

"No. You’ve made me understand that charity has nothing to do with it. But perhaps compassion. Friendship. The goodness of your heart."

"Package it differently, kid. For the sake of the baby, for good sex, good company, decent housing, fine food, unlimited drinks, plenty of sunshine and a well-kept garden. Would that make you feel better? Can you live with that?"

"Definitely."

"Willya sleep now? You have circles under your eyes large enough to land the Falcon in."

Han sat on the edge of the bed, watching Luke drift off to sleep. _Hell, the kid might be the wisest Jedi Knight in the entire Galaxy, but someone surely screwed him up in the self-confidence department_ , he thought. _Will take a helluva long time to fix that_.

Then again, a man couldn’t ask for a better job.

* * * * *


End file.
